Sobriquet
by arainymonday
Summary: The proof is in the pictures. The Flash has been unmasked. Written for Coldflash Week 2016, Day One: Secret Identity


**Title:** Sobriquet **  
Rating:** PG-13 **  
Warnings:** none **  
Pairings:** Barry/Len **  
Spoilers:** none

* * *

 **Sobriquet**

The autumn air swirls around him as misted breath. The impersonal cold of the stone rooftop ledge seeps through his jeans and cardigan. He's been sitting in this position of staged nonchalance - one knee up, arm thrown over it, head tilted back - for hours in case anyone finds him up here. His effort does not go unrewarded, but the footsteps don't belong to anyone who's expected.

"How'd you find me?"

"Don't heroes always hang out on rooftops?"

On any other day, the drawling voice would trigger a burst of speed, a threatening gesture, a sneering pronouncement. Barry can't summon the energy to deal with Snart today. He doesn't move from his spot, not even when Snart leans against the stone ledge - long legs extended and crossed at the ankle, palms resting on the ledge.

"If that's true, the whole city knows where to find me," Barry says. "I'm in the phone book."

"Trying to cheapen my win? You're not in the phone book, but I found you anyway."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

The first traces of annoyance flicker across Barry's face, and the punishment is the smirk that pops into the corner of Snart's mouth. If he had any fight left in him today, he'd at least kick Snart for that.

"Why are you here?"

Snart's gaze slides from Barry to resolutely away from Barry, but when his eyes meet Barry's a second time, they're alive with mischief and challenge. The icy grip of the cold stone releases Barry's back as he leans forward, then greets him again when he catches himself and reclines against the wall again.

"Looking out for my own interests," Snart says. "Making sure today's little mishap with the _Picture News_ doesn't spoil our fun."

Disbelief colors Barry's mirthless laugh. "You're checking up on me?"

"Like I said ... wouldn't want today's events to change things."

There's no way today won't change things. Even if Iris can work a miracle and get a retraction, there are people who will never believe it, and they would be right to. The proof is in the pictures. The Flash has been unmasked.

"Right. Tomorrow will be as normal as yesterday. I'll wake up and get ready for work and go to Jitters and process evidence, and at no point tomorrow will a woman walk up to me and ask why I didn't try harder to save her husband from Gorilla Grodd because, yeah, that's exactly how I found out about today's headline."

The planes of Snart's face are amazingly subtle. He barely moves a muscle, but the mischief and challenge have faded. He turns away from Barry quickly, but not quite as resolutely.

"So that's it, then. You're hanging up the suit. Shame ... considering what I've got planned."

Instinct brings Barry to attention. The wolfish grin is back on Snart's face, and if Barry had less confidence is his observational skills, he would have doubted whether the moment of authenticity ever happened. The smell of ozone hangs in the air after Barry grabs Snart and pins him against the brick stairwell wall in the middle of the roof. A flicker of something very much like lightning passes through Snart's eyes, but it's gone in an exhale.

"We keep ending up in this position and I might think you've got a thing for being rough."

Splotches of heat ignite Barry's cheeks. A sharp thrill zings down his spine when Snart wraps his fingers around his forearms, and when Snart pushes his arms away, Barry's fingers betray him by releasing the fabric of the blue parka. They're standing just as close and Snart's hands feel warm. Barry realizes what he's wanted all day while he sat on this rooftop and waited for someone to find him, but comfort is the last thing he can have with no one but Snart here with him.

"Whatever you have planned," Barry begins.

"Will be worthy of the Flash's attention," Snart says.

Cold invades Barry's skin again as Snart releases his grip and steps away. Barry's feet try to move a step forward, but his brain holds him back. The lurch in his gut feels like free falling.

"You're welcome."

Barry's eyebrows arch, and his derisive laugh comes easily this time. "You want me to thank you for robbing someone?"

"Right now, this whole city is talking about Barry Allen, CSI, but that's not who you really are. You're the Flash. I'm gonna help you remind them of that."

That strikes an uneasy note with Barry. For years, he's tried to keep his two lives separate, but at some point, they started to overlap so much that they began blending together. He uses CCPD leads to track down criminals, and uses his speed to gather evidence. He's not a CSI by day, superhero by night. He's both all the time.

"You're risking going to jail to help me out?" Barry asks.

"I might not end up in jail," Snart says. He takes a step closer. "I might slip through your fingers, or escape custody, or if I'm having a very lucky night, end up some place more pleasurable."

The thrill races through Barry's body when their eyes meet, but just as quickly as he caused it, Snart moves away again. This time his steps are decisive as he makes his way to the stairwell door. It takes a half second for his departure to compute.

"Snart?"

"Barry?"

A smile plays around Barry's mouth when he says, "You're definitely going to jail."

Snart's laugh is silent, but the mirth plays on his face. Then he's gone, only the echo of his footsteps on the stairs as evidence that he was ever here. Barry watches him leave from his vantage point on the rooftop. As Snart throws a leg over his motorcycle, he looks up at Barry's moonlight silhouetted figure and waves. Barry waves back.

The phone is only halfway through the first ring when Cisco answers.

"Yeah," Barry says, "I'm actually doing okay. Listen, I just got a tip about Captain Cold planning something. Make sure the suit is ready."


End file.
